


why don't we just run away?

by paleromantic, tylerscreamingintothevoid



Series: AFTG Bingo - Andreil card [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Needs A Hug, Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Scars, Self Harm, They love each other so much, andrew and neil are really gay, drake? idk her, implies smut, let them be happy, luther's a bitch and I hate him, mary? idk her either, mention of conversion therapy, teenage runaways au, they're ranging from like 13 to like... canon age in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleromantic/pseuds/paleromantic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerscreamingintothevoid/pseuds/tylerscreamingintothevoid
Summary: The next time Andrew saw Alex was almost two weeks later, and Alex now had a thin cut on his cheek, halfway to healing. It probably wouldn't even scar. His hair was darker too, and his eyes were different, and he had fresh bruises under his shirt that Andrew saw when he moved. It made him look a lot tougher than he had looked the first time Andrew had spoken to him.He almost felt intimidated, but shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached from behind. "Your dad caught up to you?"(Old Flame prompt)





	why don't we just run away?

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy this is a long one, I hope y'all enjoy! It was really really fun to write

Alex’s mother had been very clear, telling him to be quick in the store. They had just stopped in a new town, and despite their reluctance to leave the house, they had needed groceries, so she had sent Alex out to get them. It was only meant to take five minutes, just to grab the essentials. She was stalling the car outside, probably getting angrier by the second, but unfortunately, there was nothing Alex could do about the boy standing in his way, blocking the aisle.

"Can you move?"

His mother was going to _kill_ him if he took any longer. She had already been mad that it had taken them so long to get here, since Alex had gotten sick. He didn’t want her to have to punish him again, so he stepped closer to the boy and chanced his arm at getting him to move aside.

"Huh, can you?" The kid was blond, and shorter than Alex, and he stared at him until Alex felt the urge to scrub at his face. He didn’t move, either.

Alex frowned. "You're the one blocking everything!"

The blonde just stared at him. "Stop being so whiney, I was here first."

Alex sighed, and then changed tactic. The kid was bundled up warm, even though it was only mildly cold outside. Alex didn't have a jacket at all, they didn't have enough room for it in the bags. His mother said that it strengthened character anyway. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Why's it your business?"

"It's not, but you're still in my way." Alex crossed his arms and stared at him. “We might as well make conversation.”

The kid rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're so intimidating. Wait like a normal person, okay?"

He leaned in to get the ice cream, staring at Alex. "Now _you_ get out of _my_ way."

Alex huffed. "My mom is going to be mad at me again. She’s waiting outside."

Andrew could see what looked like a bruise poking out beneath his collar, and his lips pressed together into a thin line.

He moved out of the way. "I get cold easy, kay?"

Alex nodded, stepping past him and grabbing some ready meals, taking out a couple of dollars. "Oh, okay."

He was pretty scrawny, but his eyes were alert and striking, and Andrew couldn't help but want to talk to him, much to his annoyance.

"Does your mom hit you?" That got the boy’s attention, which had been Andrew’s goal.

"Only when I deserve it." Alex frowned that skittish look returning to his eyes. "Why?"

"When does anybody ever deserve that?"

Alex grimaced. "I slow her down a lot. There are bad people, and she just wants to keep me safe. It’s what’s best for me."

"In my book, people who hit their kids are bad people." Andrew crossed his arms, ignoring the ice cream melting in his grip.

Alex looked uncomfortable. "Why do you even care?"

"Does it matter? You're like a hurt puppy." Andrew shrugged. "I'm a cat person, but still."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a hurt puppy! We're just… trying to stay away from my dad."

Alex hadn't told anyone that before, he had no idea why he was telling this stranger.

"Oh, does your dad hit you too?" Andrew was blunt, and it made Alex flinch. "I thought you deserve it? Or does he hit you when you don't? "

Alex shook his head. "He does a lot worse than that, whether I do or don't."

"Then it's good you're leaving him." Andrew shrugged. "I'm Andrew by the way."

"I'm... Alex." Alex hummed, and then looked down. "Your ice cream is melting."

"You're Alex-your-ice-cream-is-melting?" Andrew snorted, before realising. "Oh, shit, my ice cream is melting. And I didn't even pay."

"Just get a new one." Alex nodded. "Do you live around here?"

Andrew shook his head, getting a new ice cream and dragging Alex to the counter before paying.

"Why? Are you suddenly interested in me, puppy?"

Alex paid for his own. "Might as well talk to people while I'm here."

"Huh." Andrew unpackaged his ice cream and made for the exit.

Alex followed him out, pausing when he saw his mom in the car, her expression grim. "I've gotta go. See you around?"

"Yeah. See you."

Alex smiled weakly at him and then ran to the car, getting in quickly.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The next time Andrew saw Alex was almost two weeks later, and Alex now had a thin cut on his cheek, halfway to healing. It probably wouldn't even scar. His hair was darker too, and his eyes were different, and he had fresh bruises under his shirt that Andrew saw when he moved. It made him look a lot tougher than he had looked the first time Andrew had spoken to him.

He almost felt intimidated, but shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached from behind. "Your dad caught up to you?"

Alex smiled grimly. "Almost, we got away though. How are you?"

"Hm. I'm fine. Alex, right?" Andrew shrugged. "You changed your hair."

Alex shook his head. "No, it’s Michael now. And we're hiding, the red hair was... noticeable."

"It was nice though."

"You think so?" Michael smiled, and Andrew huffed at how pretty it was.

"No. I think you looked like a butt." Andrew rolled his eyes. "How long are you allowed out before your mother drags you back down to her torture chamber?"

Michael flinched, and frowned. "She just wants me to stay safe. I probably have a few hours, why?"

"We should hang out."

Michael blinked. "I've never hung out with anyone before."

"So she chains you up down there too? Huh."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I've never had friends before, Andrew. Never had the time. What do people _do_ when they hang out?"

"Well, when they like each other, they go to the movies, go play ball or whatever. When they like like each other they kiss and hug and stuff." Andrew’s previous foster sister had been sixteen, and she had had friends over all the time. “That's all I know really. I don't have a lot of friends either."

"You want to hug and kiss me?" Michael raised an eyebrow.

"What? I didn't say I like liked you!" Andrew felt his face heat up, to his horror, and he crossed his arms. “I hate you.”

"Then why bring it up?" Michael grinned. "If you want to play ball and kiss, then..."

"Stop saying that! You're silly, Michael.”

"What _do_ you want to do, then?"

Andrew grumbled under his breath, and then huffed. "Nothing, now. Go be lonely."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Wanna go for a walk? It's nice out, and I haven't really had the time yet."

"Yeah, fine." Andrew fidgeted with his sleeve as he went over to Michael's side.

Michael grinned and then nodded, starting to walk. "So, you live around here with your family?"

"Hm, I guess I do." Andrew chuckled. "I don't have to ask you the same question though, I guess."

Michael snorted. "If you count squatting with your mom while your dad hunts you down, yeah."

"Yeah okay, I get it, you're cool." Andrew rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Cool is one word for it." Michael tugged his sleeves down and started walking, stopping in a shop to buy water, letting Andrew pick a drink and buying that too.

"Why are you buying me things now?"

"Don't read too far into it." Michael shrugged and took a drink, and Andrew found himself staring at Michael's throat as he drank, and his lips as he wiped them. Weird.

Andrew hesitated before taking a sip of his own. "Right. So, you want to be friends, right?"

Michael nodded and hummed. "Yeah, that sounds nice. You're not like other kids, so."

"You saying that I'm weird?"

"No, you're more like me." Michael rolled his eyes and then crossed the road, walking towards the edges of town. "Most kids are too... innocent."

Andrew scoffed. "They're just stupid."

Michael nodded and hummed. "I'm supposed to start school here, for a couple of weeks before I have to go again."

"Well, I live here. So we could... hang... out. I guess."

Michael grinned. "Sure, maybe I'll come back to visit."

"You should." Andrew shrugged. "I don't really care though. Do you have to go back to dungeon mom now?"

Michael checked his burner phone and frowned. "No, I should have until dark. I can walk you home?"

Andrew hesitated before shrugging. "Yeah, I guess you can."

"Lead the way?" Michael shoved his phone in his pocket. "It'll help me see more of the town anyway."

Andrew brought Michael down a few alleys to the estate the Spears lived in, shortcuts he knew like the back of his hand. He tugged a chain link fence open and snuck through, waiting for Michael on the other side.

Michael propped it open and crawled through tugging it back into place. "What's your family like?"

"Hm... well... okay, how about we play a game?"

"What kind of game?"

"Truth for truth. I tell you the truth about something, you do the same for me."

Michael paused, before nodding. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good."

Andrew hummed. "So, my family. I'm in a foster home, my thirteenth. Cass is the mother, and she's... she's so nice. The dad isn't around much, but it's okay. The... well, I guess _my_ brother just came back from the army. He seems nice."

Michael nodded slowly. "That's... that's good. Your turn?"

"I don't understand why you're on the run from your dad. Like, your parents are separated, but why are you... running?"

Michael chewed on his lip. "To oversimplify, he wants to kill us. Do you watch the news?'

"Do I look like I watch the news?" After a pause Andrew stopped in his tracks, leaning against a fence. "I do."

Michael snorted, before his smile got more strained again. "Uh... four months ago, there was a string of deaths in Maryland, right? The Butcher of Baltimore."

"What?" Andrew had gone very still. "No."

Michael hummed and shrugged. He had no idea why he was telling Andrew this, but there wasn’t really any going back now. "He's my dad."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “No way, you’re lying.”

Michael frowned at him, and then looked around, pulling his shirt up. Usually, Andrew would be distracted by the fact that a boy was pulling his shirt up in front of him, but he was more distracted by the ugly scars marring his stomach, horrible gashes left by things that Andrew could only imagine. Michael gave him time to look, before pulling down his shirt and exposing a mostly healed, horribly recent bullet wound.

"Am I?"

Andrew almost winced, scratching at his arm. "Right. What’s your real name, then?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “It’s my turn.”

“Give me a truth on credit, then.”

Michael hummed. "No, it's not. Did you ever meet your birth mom?"

"No. I don't know anything about her." Andrew started walking again, swinging his arms as he did. "Will you tell me your real name?"

"You could google it."

"I could google it, but I'd rather hear it from you. I'm still going to call you Smith though."

Michael scratched his chest and then let out a slow breath. "It's Nathaniel. My mother would _kill_ me if she knew I told you..."

He was quiet for a moment. "What were your other foster homes like?"

"They weren't as nice as Cass."

Michael frowned. "How bad?"

Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to play anymore, I'm bored."

Michael looked like he was going to argue, before he nodded. "How close are we to your house?"

"Not too far."

"Will I leave you go here, then?" Michael bit his lip and smiled, looking as handsome as usual.

"Yeah." Andrew put a hand on Michael's shoulder, tilting his head. "You're alright, Smith."

"You too...." Michael hummed. "Last name?"

"Spear."

"You too, Spear." Michael grinned, and fist bumped him. "I'll text you?"

"Heh, sure."

Michael started walking off, soon disappearing into the shadows, leaving Andrew alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Another two weeks had passed, and Michael and Andrew had hung out almost every day, growing closer as Michael started in the same school Andrew went to. Michael had never had a best friend before, but he was pretty sure that that was what Andrew was. At the same time though, Andrew's foster brother had been settling in and hanging out with Andrew sometimes. Michael had met him once, and hadn't liked him much, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt as long as Andrew was happy.

That was, until Andrew called him in the middle of the night, his voice tight with panic.

"Andrew?" Michaels voice was quiet, since his mother was asleep in the other room.

"Smith." Andrew's voice was equally quiet, a forced hush Michael hadn't heard before. "The son, he..."

There was a silence. As Michael opened his mouth he heard Andrew cough and splutter slightly, "Michael, I need to get out of here. I need to go, _now_."

Michael looked at the door, and then got up silently. "I'll be there in ten, can you get out of the house?"

"I want you to leave with me. Properly. Are you going to do that or be too scared to?"

Michael paused. "My mom, she'll be angry..."

In the end, the temptation was too much. "I'll need to pack, then. You need to do the same."

Michael grabbed his duffel back, shoving some clothes inside, and a money packet. "Any money you can, underwear, clothes."

"I know how to pack," snapped Andrew, before he sighed. "Meet me at the store we first met."

Michael hummed and hung up, putting that in the bag too before sneaking into the other room, stealing his binder and putting shoes on, grabbing everything and putting it over his shoulder.

After leaving a quick note for his mother, assuring her that he was leaving on his own, and that his father hadn't gotten him, Michael was ready to go. He swallowed, and looked at her, almost bailing on the idea before turning around firmly.  It took a couple of minutes to slip out the window quietly, but then he was able to jog to the store, his heart racing as he waited for Andrew.

While there, he bought some water and protein bars, packing them for later too. They'd probably need them. He heard a throat being cleared from behind him and he quickly turned on his heel. Andrew cocked his head up, a thick scarf around his neck and a coat on.

He was carrying a light looking backpack that hung low on his back.

Michael rushed forward, stopping just short of touching him. "Are you hurt?"

"Only a little," Andrew lied, "I'm fine, if we can just go."

Michael raised an eyebrow and stared at him. "Cut the bullshit."

"Can we go?" Andrew looked tired, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just want to go."

Michael sighed. "Fine, fine. But you're telling me as soon as we get to wherever the bus lets off."

"I'm telling you when we get somewhere far, far away from here." Andrew groaned as he started to walk. "You're so _tiring_. Can I sleep on the trip?"

"Yes." Michael was all business now, starting to walk without waiting for Andrew to follow, buying them two bus tickets. He had done this before, and it showed. "You can sleep, and when we stop we can decide what to do from there."

"Okay. Look, Smith..." Andrew looked up at him with tired eyes, the usual hazel darkened to . "Michael. Thanks- thank you."

Michael looked at him, and his gaze softened a little. "No problem, Andrew. Just get some sleep, yeah? We'll be busy tomorrow."

He brought their stuff onto the bus and got them the back seats, giving Andrew enough space to sleep. Andrew curled up and stretching, yawning. The boy had once compared Michael to a lost puppy. Right now, he thought that Andrew looked like a lost kitten.

When the blonde stretched his scarf had tugged down slightly, revealing how his skin had reddened around his neck. Michael stiffened, and then sighed, pulling out a jumper for Andrew to use as a pillow.

Andrew leaned forward to give Michael access, humming slightly. "Thanks..."

Michael hummed and sat back. "I'll wake you when we stop, yeah?"

"You'll take care of me...?"

"Yeah, Andrew. You're safe."

Andrew nodded and yawned again. "Okay, wake me then."

Michael nodded, and then turned to watch the road as they drove.

 

It was a long time before he woke Andrew up, as the bus rolled to a stop in an unfamiliar town. "Drew, come on. We've got to go."

Andrew whined, wiping sleep from his drowsy eyes. "Already?"

Michael nodded and stretched, clearly exhausted after minding Andrew all night. "Mmhm, we need to find a motel to stay in."

"Yes please."

Andrew got up quickly, grabbing his things and shuffling to the front after Michael, thanking the driver as they went off. Michael looked around, and then led Andrew to a store. "Grab some hair dye, would you?"

Andrew did as he was told, grabbing some chestnut hair dye and tossing it to Michael.

Michael nodded and hummed. "That'll look good on you. Do you need anything else?"

Andrew shrugged. "Do I?"

"Toiletries, medication?" Michael hummed. "I have a first aid kit."

"I don't need medication. Maybe like, hygiene stuff if we're gonna stay long."

For some reason, Michael hadn't thought that Andrew would be so unprepared for something like this. The blonde mustn't have expected whatever happened. He stared at him and then frowned slightly. "Unless you plan on going back there, then yeah, we're going to stay until we figure out something else."

"Right. Just tell me what to get, I'll get it."

Michael chewed his lip. "Cold medicine and painkillers?"

Andrew nodded and disappeared in the aisles searching for them. Michael ran a hand through his hair and huffed, making sure they had everything for the third time. Usually his mom was there to help, but now he had to do it without her. When Andrew got back, he bought the meds and put them in his bag, before walking outside again, looking for a cheap motel.

Andrew pointed out a sleazy looking one, shrugging. "Will that do?"

Michael hummed, and then smiled softly. "Yeah, it's great Andrew."

In all honesty, it's not what Michael would have chosen, but Andrew had seemed nervous about this, and Michael wanted to make him feel better.

Andrew regarded him for a moment. "You don't have to agree with me. We can do whatever."

"No, this is good." Michael brought him inside, and booked them a room from a disturbingly absentminded receptionist, before letting Andrew lead them to it. There was a single double bed, and Michael pushed it against the wall, throwing their bags onto it, visibly relaxing a bit.

Andrew sighed as he went to the wall, sliding down it slowly until he hit the ground.

Michael watched him, and then started to set up the hair dye, tossing him a chocolate flavoured protein bar. "How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?"

Andrew unpacked the bar, eyeing it intently before glancing up at Michael. "I don't think so, but I said I would when we got somewhere safe."

"You don't have to." Michael shrugged. "I do need to know if you're hurt, though."

"I think I'm hurt in places. I- I can't remember.” Andrew still seemed dazed, out of sorts. “Michael, can you check?"

"I'll have to touch you." Michael didn’t want to upset the boy, that was the _last_ thing he wanted.

"I know."

Michael knelt down and took Andrew's scarf off, before starting to check for injuries. "Shit, has it been hurting you to move this entire time?"

"Only a little." Andrew tugged his shirt off, looking shy and nervous as he exhaled and let Michael look him over for marks.

"There's some bruising on your neck, and some on your hips. Andrew, did he-" Michael sucked in a breath, hardly daring to speak the words out loud.

Andrew's breathing noticeably hitched. "Did he...?"

Michael swallowed and held out some painkillers, shaking his head. "That's never going to happen to you again, Andrew."

"How can you be sure of that." Andrew promptly took the painkillers, crossing his arms. He must have been hurting real bad, to agree to take medication. Michael’s chest ached.

"Because I'll kill them." Michael picked up some fresh clothes for him, and acted as if he hadn't just casually mentioned murder.

"Like your dad does or like your mom does?"

"It's different, I'd have a reason." Michael helped him to get dressed, before grabbing the bottle of hair dye, shaking it quickly.

Andrew smirked at the boy's quick reply. "Yeah."

Michael smiled at him before shaking the bottle. "Sit down?"

"Is this going to hurt?"

"No, but it'll smell bad." Michael put on the gloves and started to apply it to Andrew's hair, the dye quickly darkening his hair and making him look weird. "You can go blond again in a few weeks or so, after this grows out and we can cut it."

Andrew twitched slightly. "Hm?"

"What?"

"Why will I be able to go back to being blonde?"

"Once they stop looking for you." Michael hummed and massaged it into his hair.

Andrew let Michael do what he wanted, before shrugging. "Will your dad ever stop looking for you?"

"Probably not." Michael took the gloves off and sat down. "I won't let him hurt you, though."

"I won't let him hurt you either."

Michael smiled tightly. "I don't think either of us can stop that, Drew."

"I can. I'm tough." Andrew tried to smile back, but he missed and landed somewhere near a grimace, wincing.

Michael changed his shirt quickly. "Okay, I trust you. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. With you, yeah."

Michael laughed and then took a bite of his protein bar. "I'll remind you of that later."

Andrew groaned. "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll wash your hair soon, and I can sleep on the ground?"

"Don't be stupid, Michael."

Michael huffed. "I figured you wouldn't want anyone in the bed with you. It's no trouble, really, I've slept in much worse places."

"You can sleep on the covers, then. I'll go under."

Michael nodded and then grabbed a toothbrush, tossing a spare to Andrew. "Brush your teeth and then I'll rinse your hair, yeah?"

Andrew took it and went to brush his teeth, humming as he did. He spat out into the sink and rinsed his mouth.

"My hair now?"

Michael nodded and helped him to kneel over the bath, washing the dye out before towel drying. "Okay, now look in the mirror."

 

Andrew looked really different with brown hair, but Michael had been right. It did suit him, it was just... odd. Not quite right.

Andrew huffed. "I look so stupid."

Michael rolled his eyes. "No, you don't. When I get you fake glasses, you'll look even better, though."

"Why don't you wear fake glasses?"

Michael snorted. "Do you complain about everything?"

"Do you..." Andrew huffed. "Do you ever shut up?"

Michael laughed and then finished fixing Andrew's hair. "Come on, let's sleep."

Andrew snuggled under the sheets, clinging to the pillow. "I don't know if I can."

Michael turned to face him in the dark. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Andrew. I promise. You can sleep against the wall, I won't let anything happen."

"I... I don't know if I want you close, or far away."

Michael shrugged. "If you need me to leave, wake me and tell me."

"Hm. Okay, goodnight."

Andrew clutched the sheets as well as the pillow, closing his eyes. Everything fucking hurt, so badly.

Michael seemed to push the blankets over him, allowing him to stay warmer underneath them. It didn't make it hurt any less, but it was appreciated. "Goodnight, Andrew."

"Night."

Andrew didn't sleep for a few hours, playing with his new brown curls. Michael, on the other hand, fell asleep pretty easily, his breathing evening out as he slept a foot away from him. He looked much more peaceful when he was asleep, and younger too.

Most of all, he just looked like he needed the sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Do you have any plasters in your bag?"

They had moved towns three times now, and Michael had found an abandoned building that they could use this time, jimmying the lock and breaking a window before getting them inside, cutting his hand in the process. It wasn't uncomfortable, and it was free, and Michael was there, so Andrew wasn't complaining. Much.

Andrew didn't even check before groaning out a "no" and trying to head inside first.

Michael rolled his eyes and climbed in after him. "What's wrong now?"

They were older now, but running hadn't gotten any easier. Andrew had gotten a little more used to it, though and Michael had kept his promise to take care of him so far.

"Nothing's wrong, I just don't like you. Here, I'm sure I have one somewhere."

Andrew looked around and tilted his head. "Looks good for our budget of literally fuck all."

Michael snorted and then kicked off his shoes, groaning. "You liked me plenty last week when we slept in the cold and I let you wear my coat and cuddle up to me."

"What can I say, you're easy to manipulate." Andrew undid his shoes slowly, watching Michael. "I'll get it in a sec."

Michael nodded and sucked on the cut on his hand, sitting on a chair. "It feels good to relax again."

Soon after Andrew flicked a band aid at Michael, directly hitting him in the forehead. Michael laughed and put it on. "Thanks, Drew."

Michael had taken to calling him Drew, which was disgustingly affectionate. Andrew loved it.

"I keep telling you, stop shortening my name. Fuck you, Smith." Andrew scratched his forehead. "How long will we be staying here?"

Michael snorted. "A week or two? Why'?"

"Uh, no reason."

Andrew shuffled a little and hugged himself. "God, it's fuckin' cold."

Michael rustled through his bag and threw him a hoodie, big and warm. "There, that'll help."

Andrew groaned. "Not that kinda cold. I need like, blankets, comfort, that kinda shit. My whole body’s fuckin _aching_ Smith."

Michael huffed, and then sighed. "Stay here, okay? I'll be back soon."

"I don't want to be alone Michael.” Andrew frowned, and the crossed his arms.

Michael gritted his teeth. Andrew was such a whiney brat sometimes. "Someone has to mind the house while I go and get you blankets, Andrew."

Andrew made as if to keep complaining, but Michael cut him off before he could. "Just watch the fucking house, Andrew."

After that, he left through the window again, leaving Andrew to sit in silence, hugging his knees. He huffed. "But I want _you_ to warm me up, idiot," he mumbled under his breath.

Still, Michael came back soon enough, with blankets and shitty hot chocolate, but hot chocolate none the less. It was more than anyone else had ever done for him. "Andrew?"

Andrew was wrapped up in Michael's hoodie, shivering to himself. "Nh."

Michael wrapped the blanket around him, and pushed the warm cup into his hands. "Here, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Andrew took a sip and smiled weakly, before taking another, greedy for the warmth.

Michael grinned and ruffled his hair. "I have another blanket if you need it?"

"I kind of...” Andrew struggled for the words, and then clenched his fist beside him. “Michael, I want you close to me, okay? Fuck you."

Michael raised an eyebrow, and then sat down, going under the blanket and pressing his side against him. “Like this?”

"I hate saying shit like that, fuck you."

Michael rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around him. "You should have said so earlier."

Andrew stretched out like a cat, yawning and sipping his coffee. Michael laughed and then dropped his head against Andrews. "This _is_ warmer, though."

Andrew grinned, hiding his smile in the mug.

Michael spotted it, and his smile got even brighter. "I got new toothbrushes too. I want us to be comfortable here."

Andrew chuckled a little. "I am comfortable, dude."

Michael nodded and then yawned. "Can I move closer?"

"Yes." Michael thought he heard a soft _please_ muttered under Andrew's breath, but he was probably imagining things. His cheeks went pink and he nodded, curling up around him and yawning again, against Andrew's shoulder.

"Mm, I know I say it every time but thanks for asking, dickhead."

Michael laughed. "I'll always ask, Drew."

Michael had taken to calling Andrew that more often now, _not_ that he was complaining. Not to mention, Andrew could feel his body heat, keeping him warm under the blanket.

Andrew felt himself drifting off and he cursed himself, blinking to keep himself awake. If Michael was this close to him, he wanted to enjoy it for fuck sake.

Michael chuckled, his chest vibrating against him. "You're exhausted, dude."

"Well, we've just been moving around all week! It's fucking tiring!"

Michael snorted. "Come on, you need to go to bed, I'll make my bed on the ground."

"Here, Michael, listen, I've been grumpy today. It's because..." Andrew pushed himself up and patted himself down, grabbing the hot chocolate and finishing it in one go. "It's my birthday soon. I didn't want to say, because you'd make a big deal-"

"It's your birthday!?" Michael widened his eyes. "When?"

"This time next week... don't make a big deal, I'll fucking kill you." The threat was half hearted at best, but Andrew had to at least try and keep his reputation intact.

"Then who'll get you blankets and hot chocolate?" Michael smirked, and Andrew wanted to punch his stupid pretty face.

"Well... shut up, let's just make the fucking beds." Michael laughed and nodded, letting Andrew have the soft bed while he put blankets on the floor.

"I promise not to make a really big deal of it." Michael grinned brightly. "But I will do something."

"You don't have to." Andrew tugged his sleeves down. None of his foster homes had really celebrated his birthday, maybe one or two when he was younger, and he had convinced himself that he didn’t really need parties, or presents.

"You deserve a nice birthday." Michael shrugged, and then kicked off his shoes, pushing them into the corner. “ _Everyone_ deserves a nice birthday.”

"When's yours?"

"January 19th." Michael smiled thinly. "I don't celebrate usually either."

"Hm. Well, it's a few months away huh?"

Michael nodded and went to brush his teeth. "Mmhm, I think I'd be okay celebrating it with you, if you wanted."

Andrew watched Michael before changing into more comfortable pants, hugging himself as he walked to the bathroom and stood behind Michael.

"You okay?" Michael moved aside so Andrew could see the mirror, looking at him.

Andrew looked himself over, slowly. Living on the run hadn’t been kind to him, but the bags under his eyes were starting to fade as they fell into a proper rhythm, and his new hair colour complimented his eyes more than he thought it would. "Hm. I guess I don't look as bad as I thought."

He had started breaking out in spots down around his cheeks too, and it was slightly embarrassing. Andrew had never really given much thought to puberty, it had never really worried him, but he didn’t want to look stupid not, especially not around Michael.

Michael grinned. "Too bad you're an asshole, then."

He was clearly joking, and his arm bumped against Andrew's as he washed his face. He had been starting to break out too, but mostly on his back, which was almost always covered with a shirt, or at least a vest. Andrew had seen his scars before, knew they were there, but he respected Michael’s boundaries and didn’t look at his body much. Even if he wanted to. He huffed, and then grabbed his toothbrush.

"Wow, fuck you Smith. You're not too pleasant yourself, y'know."

"And yet you seem to like me." Michael laughed and then let him have the sink. Andrew brushed his teeth, looking over to Michael before focusing on himself. He had never really thought of himself as handsome, but now it seemed like he had potential. Huh.

After a couple of minutes, he heard Michael call out again.

"You look fine, come to bed!"

"Fuck you, I wanna be a blonde again!" Andrew finally pushed himself away from the sink, washing his toothbrush off.

"I'll buy bleach for your birthday, yeah?" Michael came back in, and stopped short of touching him. "You need a haircut anyway, I can cut and bleach your hair tomorrow."

"Yeah, fine, fine." Andrew walked out flopped down onto the bed, groaning obnoxiously.

Michael snorted, soon following him to lie down. “Goodnight, grumpy. Get your beauty sleep, yeah?”

Andrew gave him the middle finger before rolling over, and if he had started to blush, then Michael didn’t need to know.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Andrew, wake up, we're moving."

Michael, careful as ever not to touch him, just stood beside the bed as he called him, packing a bag. He was packing all of their clothes carefully, making sure to fold them as much as he could. Andrew had asked why he did that, once, when they were still new to this. Michael had just laughed softly, and told him that his mother had always made them fold their clothes. Messy clothes were noticeable, she had said. Andrew had just shrugged, and then helped him.

Andrew waved his hand out and grabbed Michael's leg, making him pause. "Why."

Michael tossed him some fresh clothes and grinned. "It's a surprise, get up."

"What's a surprise? Fuck you." Andrew stood up and turned, swapping out his old shirt for a fresh, clean one and sighing as it stuck to him around his arms. Michael was smaller than him, but it didn’t make sense for them to not pool their clothes together, and share them. The idea still made Andrew flustered, but he ignored it for the most part.

Michael smirked. "That's not how a birthday boy should talk, Drew."

Andrew sighed. "Just shut up Smith, what are you doing?"

"You'll like it, I promise." Michael finished packing their bags and smiled. "I got you breakfast, too."

Andrew looked over and sure enough, there were pastries and coffee waiting for him. He hesitantly reached out and grabbed one of the pastries, eyeing it curiously. "Huh. Poisoned? Death isn’t exactly the birthday present I expected."

"No, asshole." Michael snorted. "They're the ones you said you liked. We have a bus in an hour, so hurry up."

Andrew took a bite, deadpanning. "Wow, okay. I need to finish changing, one minute," he mumbled, putting the pastry down momentarily and turning to finish getting dressed.

Michael hummed and waited for him, checking his roots and stretching. He had been up for hours, getting things ready for his plan.

Andrew came out in his pair of tight jeans, hands in his pockets. "Okay, I think I'm good. Ready to go places."

Michael grinned and handed him his bus ticket. "Grab your bag, then."

 

Next thing Andrew knew, he was stepping off the bus again, looking up at a hotel.

"Nice, right?" Michael looked smug, and he fixed up his bag strap. “Figured you’d like it.”

"I suppose? But why are we here? Are you going to propose? Please don't." Andrew felt his own face heating up slightly. No one had ever done anything nice for him really, especially not for his birthday.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just go inside, yeah?"

The receptionist looked them over judgementally, before Michael talked to her and she let them right in, handing him the keys to their room. The hallways were plush, a lot more expensive looking than the abandoned houses and dingy motels they had been staying in.

"Heating, blankets, room service... am I missing anything?" Michael grinned, counting them off on his fingers.

"Dignity, you sap." Andrew clenched the keys in his fist, pouting. "I... suppose this isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Michael laughed. "Is that praise from you? I'm shocked."

Andrew reached over to flick Michael's ear and sighed as he went to the elevators. "Might as well be fancy, huh?"

Michael went in beside him and pressed the button, leaning against the wall and looking at the mirror opposite. They looked pretty rough, both of them, but they looked happy anyway. "We're here for a week, so. We have time to enjoy it, at least."

"Why are we here for a week? Can't we go somewhere normal?" Andrew frowned. It didn’t look very cheap, it probably wasn’t the best idea for them to be squandering funds on stupid hotel rooms. Even if he was looking forward to it.

Michael shrugged. "You deserve the rest, I know you haven't been sleeping well. I made sure the room has a bed against the wall, too., so you’ll be able to sleep."

"Oh, dear, why you've thought of everything, what a model husband you are," Andrew said, in a distinctly monotone voice.

Michael snorted. "God, I know right? It's a wonder someone hasn't married me already."

"It truly is a wonder." The elevator made a ding noise, and the doors parted. Andrew let Michael go first, smiling as he left. Michael led them to the room, and the first thing Andrew noticed was how warm it was. That, and how soft the bed looked.

Andrew shivered at the heat difference, his lips finally twitching upwards into a smile. "Okay, this is cool."

He set down his backpack by the bathroom door, taking a look inside. It was huge, bigger than some of the places they had stayed in before.

Michael put his stuff down and turned to look at the shorter boy. "You like it?"

"It's just- ah, there's a bath and... yeah, I like it, it's so warm, oh my god." Andrew could practically feel the luxury already. He had been dealing with slumming it with Michael, but it felt good to have somewhere to relax properly.

Michael laughed. "Wanna take a bath after ordering room service?"

"But then you'll be alone..." Andrew was moreso thinking about how lonely he'd feel without Michael there, but he would never admit it.

Michael thought about that, and hummed. "Then what?"

"I dunno. No, it'll be fine, you'll be fine. You can handle stuff without me with those baby arms, right?"

Michael smiled softly. "A hot bath sounds like a good idea, Drew, I don't mind being on my own for a while, while you enjoy. I did this for you!"

"You didn't have to. Don't tell me you got me a cake, too?" Andrew rolled his eyes, ignoring how his chest squeezed hopefully.

"Of course I got cake, you _like_ cake." Michael huffed. "What do you want to eat?"

"No, I do like cake. I want cake. I want chocolate."

Michael nodded and opened his bag, taking out a box of chocolates and then handing him the room service menu, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"You're disgusting." Andrew abhorred how much he was blushing, really.

He looked through the room service menu, picking the cheapest thing automatically before Michael encouraged him to just pick his favourite. Andrew pointed to the hot fudge brownies with ice cream, shrugging. "It looks edible, I guess."

"Yeah, yeah." Michael laughed and ordered a healthier option, before sitting on the bed again.

Andrew sighed. "My legs are so... I'm so exhausted. Could I take a bath and you could bring me the food?"

"Of course, Drew. Enjoy?"

The blonde groaned and tugged his shirt off, kicking off his shoes and undoing his fly as he went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He heard the tap being turned on, water beginning to run. Michael smiled and took his shoes off, sitting on the bed and stretching out, relaxing for the first time in a while.

Andrew squatted in his boxers, watching the water rise. It had definitely been a while, and he poured bubble mixture into it. He chuckled as he swirled his finger in the water and when the water was high enough he stripped off and stepped in.  He was almost completely submerged in the bath and he sighed, bubbles around his neck and all across the water.

He pulled a large amount together, grinning as he put the bubbles to his face and started sculpting a beard. He snorted when he had finished it, and he hadn't noticed the sound of room service at the main door.

He heard Michael answer the door, and thank the waiter, before padding over to the bathroom. "Andrew? Your food."

Andrew didn't hear, engrossed in the bubbles. Michael opened the door slightly, barely peeping in but seeing what the blonde was up to. He grinned when he saw what he was doing, feeling his heart skip. It seemed to do that a lot nowadays, at least around Andrew.

"Drew?" He pushed the door open some more, holding Andrew's food.

Andrew immediately dipped underwater, brimming with embarrassment. "Huh? Oh, Michael, you're still here."

Michael was pink and smiling, and he put down the tray near the bath. "No need to stop on my account, you look cute."

"Don't make fun, idiot."

"I'm not!" Michael laughed softly. "I like seeing you happy, Drew."

"I like seeing... well, I actually just don't like seeing you."

Michael put a hand on his heart. "I'm hurt, Andrew. And here I was, thinking you wanted to marry me."

Andrew scoffed. "Well, you're the one who got us the hotel room."

Michael hummed. "Courtesy of my uncle."

"Oh?"

Michael nodded. "He won't care much, and we'll be gone before he gets here, but I wanted you to have a really good birthday."

"Is he bad too?"

"No, not really." Michael shrugged. "He lives in England, I only met him a couple times, but he hates my dad."

"Ah, so the three of us have something in common." Andrew scooped up some ice cream with the fork and took a bite of the brownie, humming.

"Is it okay?"

It was pretty good. Nothing to write home about.

"It's perfect, Smith, perfect. Do you want some?"

"I don't like sweet things." He wrinkled his nose and waved his fruit at him.

"What is this? What are you putting in my face?"

"It's a blackberry, Andrew." He chuckled. “You know, fruit?”

"I hate it. Feed me." Michael grinned and ate it, before sitting down beside the bath, to feed him his brownie.

Andrew was fairly aware that he was naked, but Michael hadn't looked down yet. He didn’t think he was going to, either. He stretched out and finished off the ice cream, sucking whatever was left off of the fork.

"Mm, great. Thanks man."

Michael laughed. "The water is going cold, get out before you get sick. Can I steal the duvet for the floor?"

"What? Michael, you're sharing with me."

He heard Michael stop by the door as he was leaving. "What?"

"You're going to share a bed with me. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Is it going to be a problem for _you_?" Michael came back to the door. "I don't want to accidentally upset you by rolling against you."

"You won't, okay? I... okay, ugh, I feel happy, here with you. I'll sleep well tonight. You're too hard on yourself."

Michael hummed. "Okay. But you tell me to leave and I will. I promise, Andrew."

"Thank you." Eventually, Andrew came out in his softer pants, his hair still wet.

Michael had changed into softer clothes and had crawled under the blankets, leaving Andrew's usual spot free as he ate. "You look cute."

"You look cuter." Andrew didn't know why he said that.

Michael blinked and blushed deeper. "Mm."

"You should leave your hair messy more often."

_Shut up Minyard. Shut up Minyard._

"Do you like it better that way?" Either Andrew was hearing things, or Michael was trying to flirt.

Andrew paused then huffed. "No, don't be dumb."

Michael swallowed, and nodded. "Okay."

He sounded a little disappointed.

"Ugh, no, I like it that way. I love it that way." Andrew turned over, facing away from the other boy and shoving his reddened face into the pillow.

Michael looked like he was going to speak, seemingly thinking better of it. "I'll keep that in mind, Drew."

"What?" Andrew groaned. "Okay, forget it."

"What do you mean?" Michael was blushing, and it seemed as if he had lost his nerve. "If you like it better that way, then I'll keep it that way."

"Then you should, because it makes you look cute."

"Cute?" He widened his eyes, and he looked so shocked it was kind of funny.

"Yeah, yeah. There it is. You're fucking cute, who cares, not me, go away." Andrew huffed and crossed his arms. "Forget I said any of that shit. I- I'm high, or drunk, or tired, or both, yeah, go with that."

"You think I'm cute?" Michael bit his lip.

"Let's just go to sleep."

Michael hummed and nodded. "Waffles for breakfast? And chocolate?"

"Yes please," mumbled Andrew in a rightfully embarrassed tone.

Michael grinned smugly. "Happy birthday, Andrew."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Michael needed to go for a run, he had needed to go for one for days, but had been preoccupied with moving and worrying about Andrew. He'd been sick recently. Still, when things had settled, he decided to slip out of the room for go for a run while Andrew slept. 

He figured Andrew would be fine on his own, anyways.

He'd figured wrong.

The nightmares came worse that morning. More vivid, more real and it clawed at his brain, at his skin causing him to cry out when he woke.

_Such a tease, kid, just fucking begging for it-_

He pawed at the bed, desperately looking for something to hold onto. "Michael? Michael? Michael Smith," he whined, hugging his knees, "Michael come here, where are you, fuck you!"

_Such a good little slut, does that feel good?_

He got out of bed, raggedly pulling the curtains closed and scratching as his wrists. The place was empty, and Michael's shoes were gone, but his stuff remained behind. He wasn't gone too far, at least, but that did little to soothe Andrew’s ragged breathing.

He could feel how the man had dug into his hips, he felt all the pain through his body and he whimpered, sitting at the end of the bed.

_Just calm down. Just calm down, you're safe, it's okay, you're fine._

His blanket was almost too much pressure against his skin, and he kept scratching at his arms until his nails found purchase, clawing at his own skin. Everything hurt so fucking _much_.

He reached down and scratched at his wrists, up his lower arms and he arched his back as his scratching got harder and rougher. It wasn’t long before he broke skin, and the blood started to well up quickly after that. The shocking red caused him to stop, made him stare.

He pressed his thumb against the blood and tried to wipe it away, only smearing his arm with it, letting more well up and start to slide down along his arm.

He huffed and scratched and wiped again, hoping the blood would stop coming. It didn’t.

"N-Michael, fuck..."

He heard the door unlock, and Michael let himself in quietly, probably trying not to wake him. Andrew stumbled to the en-suite, tripping up over a bag but catching himself at the last moment. He leaned over the sink, letting the water wash some of the blood away, wiping at it frantically with his hand. Michael was going to be so _angry_ with him. "Go away, go away, go away..."

He heard Michael coming upstairs, heard him pause as he saw the empty bed. "Drew?"

"I'm fine, don't come in!"

"You don't sound fine!" Michael went oddly quiet. "Wait, is that blood on the blanket?"

"N-no..." Andrew whined and then turned the tap off, wiping his arm with tissue until the water had been dries. Blood was still coming out of the cut, although it had slowed to a trickle.

"It was an accident," he insisted as Michael pushed the door open, "I didn't mean to, I promise I really didn't..."

Michael paled considerably, and then moved away again, making Andrew's blood run cold, until the boy came back with a first aid kit. "What the _fuck_ , Andrew?"

"I- I had a bad dream, and then my arm really itched- I told you, I didn't mean to!"

Michael washed his arm again, patting it dry and unwrapping bandages from the roll, stretching them out and then grabbing Andrew’s arm.

"It just, it was so, so fucking real, Smith..." Andrew whimpered. "Fuck- be careful!"

Michael wrapped his arm tightly and efficiently, securing it with a neat knot. "Anywhere else?"

The usual Michael wasn't really there anymore, he was dealing with the same Michael who had been raised around blood and injuries. It was all efficiency, and Andrew couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Michael and his mother had dealt with injuries before. Michael’s scars sure seemed to point that way, anyway.

"Just my arm- ah, Michael, it's so tight, dude-"

"It'll help stem the bleeding." Michael grabbed him a granola bar, tossing it to him. "Eat it, and go sit down."

"I don't want to..."

"You need to." Michael started to clean the sink, humming. "I can get proper food later, but that’s all we have for now."

"Michael, I need you here right now, not a fucking doctor." Andrew whimpered. "I need you, please..."

Michael turned to look at him, and after a few seconds that zoned-out look disappeared. "I... sorry. I’m sorry, I just saw the blood and I…"

He turned around and then frowned. "Did you scratch your neck too?"

Andrew shrugged. He couldn’t honestly remember if he had, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t. Michael shook his head and then raised a hand. "Can I touch you?"

"Where?"

"Neck, I won't touch anywhere else."

"Yeah- yeah, go for it..."

Michael ran a cloth under the cold tap, wringing it out before pressing it against the stinging scratches. The cold actually helped to sooth them a lot, and Michael kept his hand there.  "I'm sorry I left you alone, Drew. I won't do it again."

"Michael, you should be allowed to leave- nn- you don't have to worry every single time..."

"Shut up, Drew. I'm the one who brought you with me, I have to take care of you."  He walked Andrew out to the bed and rifled through his bag, before pulling out a candy bar. " _There_. I _knew_ I had one left."

Andrew grabbed it quickly, unwrapping it and sucking on the cold chocolate. "Mmh."

Michael laughed, and then grabbed a hoodie, wrapping it around him. "You'll be okay, Drew. Do you want to get some more sleep? I'll stay with you this time."

"No, can you... can you just relax, I can... if it's your hoodie I have with me I'll sleep well."

Michael stared at him, a faint blush reddening his cheeks. "I guess, yeah. I'll still stay, though."

"Okay, fine..." Andrew smiled a little. "I- you know I didn't mean to, don’t you?'

Michael nodded and sat on the bed. "Yeah, I just... I wish I had been here."

"What, to watch?" Andrew raised an eyebrow. “You’re into some weird shit, Smith."

Michael pushed him lightly and laughed. "Shut up, asshole."

Andrew leaned back and chuckled. "Thanks though, I guess."

"I want you to be okay." Michael shrugged. "You're my best friend."

"And you're mine, obviously."

Michael grinned. "I would hope so. Since you think I'm cute."

"Hey! Shut your face, dickhead." Andrew groaned and curled up under the covers, groaning even louder. "Just shut up, let me sleep."

Michael laughed, and then sat back. “Yeah, yeah, goodnight Andrew.”

* * * * * * * *

Since they had ran away, Michael and Andrew hadn't had a run in with the police, luckily. Michael was careful, always so careful. They had laid low, kept quiet and careful to avoid any trouble, but they should have known that luck would run out eventually, and it ran out in Oakland.

"Aaron!"

Andrew felt the man grab his coat, and Michael stiffened beside him, turning to confront him.

"Minyard, I was fucking calling you!"

"What? Get the hell off of me, asshole!" Andrew pulled away, furrowing his brow.

"Aaron, your mom's been looking for you!"

Michael blinked, and then frowned, turning to look at the man who had stopped them. "Sorry, who the fuck is Aaron?"

"I'm And- I'm uh Dave, who's Aaron?" Andrew stuck his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

The policeman frowned slightly. "You're fuckin with me, right kid?"

"No, I'm not fuckin with you, idiot. Don't you dare touch me again, you'll regret it."

"Kid, I arrested you last week, gave you a lift home. Your mom's worried about you, running off like that." The man looked pretty confused, and Michael was almost sure that he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was crazy then.

"Okay, you're starting to creep me out. Who's Aaron Minyard?"

The guy frowned. "You're really not Aaron?"

"No, dude. Are you?"

The man took out his phone then, tapping and scrolling for a couple of seconds before holding the phone out to him. Sure enough, there was a boy that looked to be Andrew's age, who looked the exact same as him. It was like looking in a mirror, except infinitely more fucked up.

"Damn, you're next level weird. Let's go, man," said Andrew, grabbing Michael by the arm.

"That's... are you related to him?"

"Might be, mightn't be, but I sure as hell don't remember having a twin brother." Michael frowned at the screen while Andrew shook his head, and the man huffed.

"I'm Officer Higgins, can I at least take you to see them?"

"What? Fuck you, Officer Piggins. I've got a life to get back to, if y'don't mind."

Higgins scribbled down a number. "Let me contact you, then, kid. Shit like this doesn't just _happen_."

Michael bit his lip. "Uh, Dave… maybe you should? This seems a little weird."

"Maybe I should? This is probably a scam. How did you get a picture of me, creep?"

"It's not a damn picture of you, kid, it's a picture of Aaron. Minyard, lives down on Beechwood with his mom."

"Is it his birth mom?" Andrew still seemed doubtful. “Show me your badge."

"Yeah, his birth mom." He took out his badge and held it out, showing him. "I can call her right now."

Andrew paused. "Okay. Okay, whatever, let's go, Michael."

Michael stayed where he was. "This could be family, dude. Real family."

Andrew stared at him for a long time. “Fine, let's go with Piggins, dipshit. What, are you stupid too, falling for this?"

For once, Andrew's words actually hurt Michael. They felt nastier than usual, like Andrew was higher strung than normal.

Michael ignored it, though he couldn't hide the hurt that showed on his face. "Okay, let's go then."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Aaron Minyard was a skittish boy, like if Andrew were looking in a horror movie funhouse mirror. He had bags under his eyes, and he seemed to be waiting for the next hit at any given moment. It bothered Andrew a lot, but he still didn’t trust this at all.

"This is your room." He gestured towards the door and then offered a small smile, before pushing it open. "It's not much, but we don't have the most space..."

Andrew had had his arms crossed. He stepped into the room, eyeing it carefully. "Interesting. Do we share?"

"Is he staying?" Aaron frowned at Michael, who looked at Andrew.

"I can find somewhere else if you want, Drew."

Andrew really didn't want to be alone there, the idea of sleeping without Michael in a strange bed was already making his anxiety spike. His eyes darted between the two boys. "Well, I meant are me and you sharing a room, Aaron.'

Aaron glanced at Michael. "If you want. Michael can take the other room if we are, I guess."

"I don't care. I don't really see why I have to stay with you at all though, really."

"Because we're family?" Aaron furrowed his brow. "I thought you'd like having a brother."

"You thought I would pity your loneliness, is that it?" Andrew sighed. "Alright, don't look so attacked. Smile. I suppose I could eventually like having a brother."

Aaron nodded stiffly, and scratched his neck. "So, do you want to stay with me?"

Andrew glanced at Michael. "Okay, if Michael can stay too. He's like... my carer. Or maybe I'm like his carer. We don't really question it."

Michael rolled his eyes, and Aaron huffed. "Fine, whatever, the kid can stay. We don't have a lot of money, though."

He scratched at his arm, and Andrew caught the yellowing remains of what looked to be bruises under his heavy sleeves.

Interesting.

Andrew squinted. "Hm. We can get jobs or something, right Michael," he said, eyes fixated on his twin's arms.

"Right." Michael followed his gaze, stiffening just slightly.

Aaron seemed to shrink under Andrew's scrutiny, and his sleeve fell down to his wrists again. "Mom will be home soon, she'll want to see you when she is."

Andrew walked around Aaron, eyeing him. "Is that all she'll want to do with me?"

He was pressing into dangerous territory, but Andrew figured that if he and this boy would have to live together, Aaron would have to get used to it. Predictably, Aaron stiffened slightly. "Uh, yeah."

Michael raised an eyebrow, and then hummed.

Aaron let them put their things in their respective rooms, before sitting on his own bed. The room was dim and warm, and an old video games console was set up by the wall. Pill bottles with varying degrees of fullness sat on Aaron's bedside table, painkillers from what Andrew could tell. He looked over and snatched the bottle, standing up. He unscrewed the cap and tapped two pills into the palm of his hand, tossing them back into his mouth.

Aaron went over to take the bottle back. "They're not yours."

Michael, who had been in the bathroom, stopped at the door. "I doubt you have a prescription either."

Aaron flushed, but didn't argue the point.

"They numb the pain though, right?" Andrew tapped the bottle, making it rattle a bit. "Maybe I need them too."

Michael huffed. "You didn't need them before."

"I was talking to my brother."

Aaron blinked at him dumbly. "Mom gets them for me, they help me sleep."

Andrew squatted, looking up at him. "Will she get them for me if I need help sleeping too?"

He swallowed. "I... if you want? She can get lots of things."

Michael frowned at that, and then seemed to scan the room quickly. "Andrew, can I talk to you?"

"She can get lots of things? Can she?" Andrew had a bad feeling about this. He had a _very_ bad feeling about this. “And yeah, Michael, you can. You have a mouth, don't you?"

"Outside." Michael gritted his teeth, and then left the room, leaving Andrew and Aaron alone. Aaron nodded meekly, plucking at a thread that was threatening to unravel his sleeve. Andrew barely looked in his direction as he walked out.

Michael glanced at the door as Andrew approached him. "They're fucking junkies, Andrew."

"Who?"

"Both of them, Aaron and your mother. Addicted to painkillers, and probably whatever the fuck else she can get her hands on."

Andrew squinted. "She beats him, that's why he's addicted."

"She beats him, and she got him addicted." Michael nodded his agreement, and then crossed his arms. "So what do we do, then?"

Andrew didn't want to leave the boy. But he did want to leave, he had never asked for this. "I don't know. You choose."

Michael stared at him. "You want to help him."

"No." It was an obvious lie.

Michael sighed, and then ran a hand through his hair, as unfairly attractive as always. "Then we stay, and we help him I guess."

"Uh-huh. That's your decision though."

"Sure." Michael chuckled, and then brushed past Andrew on his way to grab his bag. "Want a chocolate bar? Your stash is still in my bag."

"Michael, listen to me for a moment, wait."

"Yeah?" Michael turned to look at him, and Andrew felt his chest seize up a little.

"What are we going to do with this lost child?"

Michael smiled at him and then shrugged. "I don't know, but we'll do whatever we can, Drew. We always do."

Andrew nodded. "Okay, I'd love a chocolate bar. I'm just going to talk to Aaron real quick."

The blonde went back into the room, closing the door behind him. "Aaron," he said in a sing-songy voice, pasting a bright smile on his face.

Aaron flinched and looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Look. Listen. I know what's going on. I can see it. Don't be a pus-" Andrew coughed. "Don't be afraid, nothing bad will happen now."

"You don't know anything." Aaron grimaced. "Just leave it alone."

"Aaron, I'm not going to. The second another person steps through that door, I'm going to act like you piss me off. But I... I know what you're feeling. Someone who should be protecting you is... isn't."

Aaron swallowed, and then tugged at his shirt, exposing bruises around his neck, his ribs. "She just gets angry sometimes. It’s not her fault."

"I understand." Andrew sat down next to him. "She shouldn't, though, and that _is_ her fault.."

Aaron shrugged, and then took two of the pills, drinking a little water. "I guess."

Michael came in soon after that, tossing a bar to both Andrew and Aaron, before scratching at his neck and leaning on the radiator. Andrew splayed himself out on that bed, arching his back and yawning.

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You tired?"

"I think that Aaron might be.” Aaron blinked, and opened his mouth before being cut off by Michael.

"I'll go to bed then."

"You do that."

Michael nodded and got up, before pausing by the door. "Goodnight, Andrew."

He left the room then, and Aaron looked at Andrew before grabbing his pyjamas. Andrew was still unsure of how comfortable he would be alone, but he supposed he would try to get some sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Andrew had spent about an hour trying not to wake his new roommate up. He had forced himself not to toss and turn, but this was too much it was all _too much_. He felt his skin crawl, and he grimaced, dragging his nails against his arms to try and get the feeling of hands off of them.

It wasn’t long before he gave up. He snuck out of bed and walked over to the door, glancing around the room. Aaron was snoring softly, and for a moment, Andrew could almost imagine having grown up here. He wondered if things would have been better for Aaron then.

He doubted it.

The door creaked open and Andrew headed down the hall, pressing his hand to the door to Michael's room. The door was closed shut, and it complained softly as he opened it, revealing a sleeping Michael. His hair was fluffy from sleep and he seemed to be wearing one of Andrew's shirts. They had long since started wearing each others clothes anyway, but it still made Andrew's face heat up when he saw it.

Michael quickly woke up at the sound, though, and he looked ready to hit someone before he saw Andrew, relaxing completely and huffing.

"Oh, Andrew."

Andrew had his hand on the dresser and he curled it up in a fist. "Hey. Didn't mean to scare you."

Michael wiped his eyes and made a soft noise, before sitting up properly. "Are you okay?"

"No, I just..." Andrew walked over and sat down on the bed, making the mattress dip. "I wasn't sleeping well."

Michael shifted over, and tugged the duvet down. "I can keep watch for you while you sleep?"

Andrew sat on the bed cross legged. He ran a hand through his messy blond hair and leaned over. "You don't have to do that."

"If it helps you sleep, then I will." Michael shrugged, and smiled at him.

Andrew felt like a little kid with a crush, even more so when Michael reached out, holding out a hand.

"Come on Andrew, you look exhausted."

Andrew grabbed his hand, clinging to the boy's fingers. They were long and slim, and warm against Andrew’s own cold hand. "I am, I guess."

Michael tugged him closer. "Then sleep, I'll stay here with you and make sure you're safe."

Andrew let his forehead bump against Michael's, oddly not complaining about the contact. "Is that what you want?"

The bed was warm, since Michael had already been sleeping in it, and Michael's hand was warm, as was his forehead against Andrew's. Andrew could feel himself relaxing into it, the only familiarity he had had since that man had called him Aaron.

He smiled lazily and then laughed, his breath hitting Andrew's lips. "Sorry for stealing your shirt."

Andrew reached out to grab the boy's shirt, hand trembling slightly. "Huh. It's fine."

"Are you okay?" Michael frowned, and then reached up to fix Andrew's collar. "You seem a little shaky."

Andrew scoffed. "Just the bad dreams."

"You haven't had those in a while." Michael hummed and then pulled the duvet up around them, curling up closer.

"Right, right. Maybe it's the whole thing about Aaron's mother and everything. Ugh, I hate talking about it."

"Then sleep, Drew. It'll still be here tomorrow, and I'll help you deal with it." Michael squeezed his hand gently, brushing his thumb over the back of Andrew's hand.

"A-ah."

He looked so _pretty_. Andrew could see the dusting of freckles across his cheeks from this distance, and how soft he was from sleeping.

"We can just sleep together. You don't have to stay up for me."

"Are you sure?" Michael pushed his face further into the pillow, and then grinned at him. “I really don’t mind, Drew.”

Andrew nodded. "Shove over a little though."

Michael nodded and moved away from him, leaving more space between them and leaving Andrew feeling cold.

"Wait. No. Let me spoon you." Andrew felt his face go red again. He wanted to die.

Michael blinked. "What?"

"You absolutely heard me."

"What does that _mean_ , Andrew." Michael had never been spooned before. Hell, Michael had probably never been hugged before.

"Spoon, like cuddling from behind?"

"... Oh. You want to cuddle me?" Michael was blushing now, inching closer to him again.

"Yes. I'll be the big spoon- behind you."

Michael swallowed and then nodded, turning around so his back was to Andrew, letting Andrew take charge.

Andrew snuggled up to him awkwardly, burying his nose in the boy's neck.

He smelled like soap and fruity shampoo, and he pressed back into him happily. "Mm, this is nice..."

"Shut it."

"Make me." Michael rolled his eyes and laughed, before curling up.

"Goodnight, Drew."

"Goodnight, asshole."

Andrew's breath tickled Michael's ear, a reminder of how close the two were. Michael laughed softly, and then closed his eyes, falling asleep easier with Andrew's solid presence behind him.

Andrew eventually drifted off, hands hovering around Michael's hips as he slept. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Andrew woke up feeling well rested, with Michael pressed against his chest, snoring softly. At first, he didn't know what had woken him, before he realised that the front door had slammed. He pushed himself away from the other boy and out of the bed, his feet hitting the cold wooden surface as he reached for proper pants, mismatching socks.

He shivered as he made for the door, then he looked around.

Michael blinked blearily at him. "Drew?"

"Wait here, okay?" Andrew crossed over to Aaron's room and knocked on the door. Aaron wasn't inside, but soon enough he heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

"Morning, Andrew." Aaron cleared his throat and stood in the hallway, smiling weakly. "You weren't there when I woke up."

"What? What's happened?" Andrew quickly scanned his body for injuries, but he supposed that their mother was never that careless.

"What?" Aaron answered almost too quickly. "Nothing. Mom just came home."

"Okay, let’s go down and say hello together then."

"I guess, yeah. What about your- Michael?"

"My Michael is in his room." Andrew walked up to his brother, staring him dead in the eyes. "What did she do?"

"Nothing! She's usually in a good mood when she gets back...."

"The good mood lingers from the time when she's free of you, hm?” Aaron winced, and Michael cleared his throat from the doorway.

"Aaron, is that your mom making the loud noises downstairs?"

Aaron nodded. "She's just clumsy."

"Or high." Michael let the door shut behind him as he walked back into the bedroom.

Aaron swallowed and then looked at Andrew. "You wanted to meet her?"

Andrew nodded, and then Aaron led him downstairs. The first thought that Andrew had was that they must look like their father, since the woman in front of him looked nothing like him.

"Aaron?" The woman's voice slurred, and Andrew noticed how he flinched away from her hands.

Andrew took a few steps forward, crossing his arms. "Hello, _mom_."

She blinked at him, and then frowned. "Oh, it's..."

Aaron looked upset, and he sighed. "It's Andrew, mom. I _told_ you about him, remember?"

"Right, right. Andrew, baby..." The woman made to grab him, almost like a hug. Andrew stepped back, making sure to stand a certain distance away that she couldn't touch him.

“Don’t.”

She reeked of alcohol, and the scent of vomit clung to her clothes. "You're so handsome..."

She swung her hand around, hitting Aaron lightly on the shoulder. "Get me my purse."

Aaron immediately went to do as he was told, leaving them alone.

"Am I more handsome than Aaron?"

"He's scrawny." She shook her head. "Should've given him away instead."

Andrew grimaced, and clenched his fists. It was an odd feeling, being grateful that you had been given away. He hadn’t expected to ever feel like that. "So you're my mother, then?"

She nodded, and then took her bag off Aaron, taking some white pills out. "Now scram, Aaron."

Aaron glanced at Andrew, and then down at the floor. "Andrew, will you come with me?"

"Where?"

"Upstairs." His brother tugged his sleeves down some more.

"Yeah, fine." Andrew looked at his mother once more before heading upstairs. She knocked back the pills dry, before chasing it with a beer. His stomach turned.

Aaron was quiet beside him. "I'm sorry about... her."

"What? Don't be sorry about her.  Don't you dare ever be sorry about her."

"I... yeah. Thanks Andrew."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So your mom seems like a ray of sunshine." Michael kicked off his trainers and groaned, rubbing his foot gently. He had gone for a run, and Andrew was pleased to note that he was wearing his hoodie.

"She's almost as nice as you, actually." Andrew had his knees drawn up to his chest and was hugging them gently. He lifted his head and rested his chin on his knees.

Michael snorted, and then bit his lip. "You okay?"

"Yeah. She's... she's a piece of work is all. I want to like Aaron I guess. I don't want to want to like Aaron. I want to both want to not like Aaron, and also to not like Aaron. You get me?"

"... I really don't. Aaron seemed nice, but..." He frowned. "She really scares him, doesn't she?"

"Uh-huh." Andrew got up, patting himself down and tilting his head. "I wish we could do something about it."

"We could do something about it." Michael looked at him, and Andrew could see that he was thinking hard.

"You think?"

"What's on your mind, Smith."

"An overdose wouldn't be hard to fake. Or a drunk driving accident."

Andrew seriously pondered it for a moment before shaking his head. "Murder seems a bit extreme, Smith."

"Is it?" Michael shrugged. "It'd mean Aaron wouldn't be scared anymore. Sad, maybe, but."

"Shut up, Michael, we're not going to talk about murder, okay? Thanks so much for the offer, but normal people don't go around fucking killing each other. If you want to do something like that, go back to your parents." At that, Andrew left the room in a huff.

Michael flinched, and then furrowed his brow, getting up and shoving his shoes back on, grabbing his bag and leaving through the door. "I'm going out."

Andrew had been sitting outside waiting for him to make a move and he barely looked up. "Tell papa Wes I said hi. See if he'll get you some chloroform or anything, that could come in handy!"

He said that with as much false vigour he could muster.

"Fuck you." Michael sounded actually hurt at that, and he stepped over Andrew's legs, disappearing down the stairs.

Andrew looked up at him as he left. As he heard the front door slam behind the other boy he hopped to his feet and rushed downstairs.

He held his hand out to the handle of the door, pausing before glancing out the window to see if he could spot Michael.

Michael had gone, and taken his bag with him.

************

It was almost 9 hours later when he came back, looking cold and tired, and still angry.

Andrew was sitting in the front room, staring at the wall as if it interested him to the ends of the Earth. "You're back?"

"Figured you'd want your stuff back before you kick me out, if you're so worried that I'm like my father."

The blond got to his feet quickly enough, heading over to the boy. "Are you stupid? Actually slow? You're not fucking leaving, asshole."

"Am I not?"

"Michael, you talked about killing someone. That’s not okay."

"Get off your fucking high horse for a second, Andrew. Her hitting your brother isn't okay. Her fucking putting you into foster care wasn't okay. What my dad did to me wasn't okay." He grimaced and dropped his bag. "She'd die soon enough anyway."

Andrew sighed, and then picked at his sleeve. "We could take him with us."

Michael hummed. "We could, I guess."

"It's a better alternative.”

Michael nodded. "I... I’m sorry I left."

Andrew rook a second before going closer to him, letting his arms fall to his sides. "You... I... I was... a... dick."

"You were."

"So were you." Andrew was looking Michael in the eyes now. Such pretty eyes.

Michael swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry, Drew."

Andrew reached out and grabbed Michael by the collar. It wasn't rough, the blonde being gentle as he pulled the boy towards him. He pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, before letting him go again, ears burning.

Michael stiffened immediately against him, pulling back when Andrew let him go and staring at him. "You-"

Andrew took a few wobbly steps back, trying to keep a straight face. Michael chased after him, going to touch his face, before stopping. "Andrew..."

He looked confused, but still so pretty.

"Kiss me back if you want to. If you don't, just say it." Andrew scrunched up his face, expecting a harsh rejection.

Instead, what he got was Michael kissing him, touching his face lightly with his fingers as he pressed their lips together. Andrew brought his hand to meet Michael's. Michael flinched, worried he'd done something to upset the blonde, but he only quickly intertwined their fingers, squeezing his hand.

When he pulled back, he was blushing bright red. "I thought you hated me."

"Every inch of you." Andrew took a breath, as if he wanted to say something else. He let the moment pass, and nodded as he walked to the stairs, a gesture that Michael took to mean follow.

Michael trailed after him, and pressed his fingers to his lips. "Where are we going?"

Andrew went to the room, silently. When Michael came in he found himself lightly pulled down to the bed. Before he knew it, the blonde was clambering onto his thighs, sitting comfortably on him. He reached his hands to Michael's hips, hovering over the hem of his shirt.

"Yes or no?"

_Please say yes._

Michael swallowed, and then shivered a little at the contact. "To what?"

Andrew promptly hooked his thumbs in Michael's waistband. He wasn't going to say what he wanted, but he needed permission. "Yes or no?"

Realisation dawned in Michael's face and he went red. "I uh... yes? I've never..."

"Shut up."

He heard the clicking of his belt being undone, even though Andrew hadn't diverted his attention from Michael's eyes.

Michael lifted his hips, letting Andrew tug down his jeans.

Then, he let Andrew do a little bit more.

* * * * * * * *

"Andrew, wake up."

Aaron's voice was urgent, pulling Andrew out of his sleep efficiently. "Uncle Luther is here, he wants to see you."

Michael groaned from where he was curled up in the blankets. "Fuck off, Aaron."

Aaron ignored him. Andrew furrowed his brow and sat up, trying to fix his hair. "Who the fuck is uncle Luther?"

"Mom's brother, he lives near enough to us. He's... you'll see. He wants to see you now, though."

"He's what? What is he?" Andrew got out of bed, changing into a black long sleeved undershirt. He tugged the sleeves down far enough that he wouldn't have to cover them with bands. Michael started to do the same, pulling on his worn old jeans and a grey shirt, not bothering to cover his own arms.

"You're not invited." Aaron levelled him with a flat look, but Michael just laughed.

"I'm going with Andrew."

Andrew pulled his legs through the sweatpants he'd brought with him and sighed. "I'm so excited to meet him."

"He has a son, Nicky." Aaron shrugged. "He's not so bad."

Andrew went to the door, waiting for his brother. Michael was first, falling in beside Andrew and providing his usual solid company, their hands bumping together every so often. Aaron led them downstairs, and stopped at the kitchen door before opening it.

Tilda sat inside, talking quietly to a man who looked quite like her. The man was dressed conservatively, and had a crucifix pendant glinting from his chest. Andrew hummed, and then narrowed his eyes. Something told him that Luther wouldn’t exactly get along with his _lifestyle choices_.

"Uncle Luther." Aaron smiled weakly. "This is Andrew, and his friend Michael."

"Hello, Uncle Lu-Lu." Andrew cracked a false, teasing smile. "Great to meet you."

Luther looked between him and Michael. "I didn't expect for you to bring a _friend_ , Andrew."

"He's not my friend."

Luther raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Michael looked at him too, waiting for him to speak. "No no. I just owe him something, so I'm letting him stay with me. I love the jewellery by the way. Very... telling."

Aaron frowned, and Michael swallowed, looking away.

"Telling?" Luther smiled. "I don't suppose you have any interest in the Church?"

"I'm interested, but not actively taking part in it."

Luther nodded, as if that was what he expected. "I'm sure you'll come around. You, Michael?"

Michael's voice lacked inflection when he spoke. "No."

"Michael used to be a Mormon, I'm sorry to say. Lost the interest at a young age." Michael nodded stiffly, and then turned to leave, walking around Aaron to retreat upstairs.

"Seems like a troubled boy." Luther frowned. "Perhaps I should speak with him."

"Perhaps you shouldn’t." Andrew said flatly. “I’ll talk to him.”

"I thought you weren't friends?" Luther watched him, challenging.

Andrew smiled politely. "Well, being alone with old religious men gives him flashbacks, you know what I mean?"

He didn't blink as he stared Luther down. Aaron looked between them, and Luther hummed. "Perhaps Tilda could accompany me, then."

"Perhaps. Is your son... my cousin, here? I'd love to meet the boy."

"He's gone to summer camp, upstate." Aaron flinched minutely behind him, and Luther’s eyes glinted. Interesting.

"When he returns, you can speak to him." Luther started to walk towards the stairs.

Andrew waited until he was gone before turning to his brother. "Lovely fella."

Aaron grimaced. "Did you have to antagonise him?"

“Oh, I really did.”

 

Michael was sitting on the double bed when Luther reached the door. He knocked gently, and smiled. "Hello, are you alright son?"

Michael looked up. "Huh? Yeah, fine. Aren't you here to talk to Andrew?"

"You seemed upset." Luther smiled and then sat on the bed.

"No, I'm fine." Michael laced up his shoes properly. “I was just going to go for a run.”

"Was it that he said you weren't friends?"

Michael paused, and then clenched his jaw and continued at what he was doing. "No."

"Maybe he's sick of having someone sticking around when they're not welcome, Michael." Luther smiled soothingly, although it didn’t have the right effect.

"Excuse me?"

"He doesn't need you anymore." Luther shook his head. "He has a brother, and a family. Do you think he needs someone else clinging to him?"

"I want you to leave me alone." Michael glared at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

"You know I'm right."

"You're not. You're wrong. He doesn't need me, but he does want me here."

"Why, because you're such good _friends_?" Luther stressed the last word, and Michael almost winced.

"Because- because-" Michael gritted his teeth. "If he doesn't want me here, he'll tell me himself."

"He only lets you stay because he owes you, he said that himself."

"It's none of your business."

"I'm his uncle." Luther smirked. "Just think about it, Michael."

 

With that, he left to go downstairs, leaving Michael alone.

"He's... you're the one who's nothing, Christian bastard..." Michael brought his knees up to his chest, sighing.

It was almost an hour before Andrew returned to the bedroom. Michael was quiet, purposefully so.

"He's a piece of shit." Andrew sat on the floor next to the bed.

"Yeah." Michael's voice was rusty, and he rolled his neck, holding out a hand. "I'm going outside, give me a cigarette."

"What? Why are you going outside? I'll come out with you." Andrew frowned, but reached for the pack anyway.

"No, it's fine, I just need a smoke."

"Michael-"

Michael slipped from the room, and took the window to climb onto the roof. He lit the cigarette and held it between his fingers, inhaling the smoke and shivering a little.

He hated pissing Andrew off, but he needed to be alone. After the cigarette had long since burned down to the end, Michael eventually crept back into the room, crawling into bed. "Hey, Drew."

His clothes were cold, and he smelled of smoke.

"Michael, I missed you." Andrew was looking wistfully at the carpeted floor.

"You did?" Michael was closed off, watching him. He didn't sound like he believed him.

"I did."

Michael hummed and then nodded, turning over and pulling the blankets up over himself. He faced away from the other boy. "Goodnight, Andrew."

Andrew huffed. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, why?"

"I want you to talk to me." Andrew frowned.

"I can stay somewhere else, Andrew."

"I don't _want_ you to stay somewhere else."

"If you're only letting me stay here because I owe you, then."

Andrew scoffed. "You know exactly why I said that. He would have taken you away if he knew about us. If I'd said we were friends, I wouldn't have been- been able to..."

Andrew cut himself off before he got the last part out, going a deep shade of red. “I want you here, okay?”

Michael swallowed. "It still hurt, Andrew. And then he...."

 

He grimaced. "I don't want to get in the way of you and your family."

"I care about you more than I care about them."

"They're your family, Aaron _needs_ you."

"And I need you." Andrew looked away.

Michael went red, and turned around, pushing himself up. "No, you don’t."

"Fuck off. I do."

Michael wriggled closer, and bit his lip gently. "Yes or no?"

"Yes."

Michael kissed him, and smiled softly. Andrew kissed him back, hand on his chest. "I want to..."

The way he trailed off made Michael shiver. "Yes or no?"

"Yes, Andrew." Michael kissed him again, tangling a hand in his shirt.

Andrew slipped his warm hands up Michael's cold chest, thumb finding and drifting across a scar. "Don't go, please? I won't ask again."

Michael shook his head and kissed him. "I won't, Drew."

He smiled and pressed closer. "You're so warm."

"You would be too if you'd stayed here with me, asshole."

Michael chuckled and then sighed. "Luther was telling me you didn't need me."

"Luther is nothing, don’t listen to him." Andrew shivered. "I don't want to think about him while I'm here with you."

Michael nodded and then kissed his hands. "Me neither..."

He grabbed Michael by the waistband, and kissed his neck. Michael gasped and let him, making a small appreciative noise. "Andrew..."

"Glad you're not planning to leave anytime soon..."

* * * * * * * *

The tension hadn't lessened any in the week following that, even though Michael had tried his best to relax and just focus on enjoying the time with Andrew.

The constant cold shoulders and glares that he received from both Luther and Tilda didn't make it any easier, though.

He was getting the clear message that he wasn't welcome, but Andrew seemed to still want him there. What Andrew wanted was the only thing that mattered, as far as Michael was concerned, and as long as they were sharing a room no one had dared to bother him.

That was, until Andrew had gotten pulled away by other responsibilities, leaving Michael upstairs alone.

He had settled down in school, and was scrawling down paragraph after paragraph of some dumb essay for English class. Words were coming straight out of his ass, but he seemed quite passionate about every word. He had blocked out everything else anyway, on account of how it was due first thing in the morning.

Which explained why he didn't notice when the older man entered the room, watching him with barely concealed distaste.

"Smith, I thought you'd have gone with Andrew."

"I have not," said Michael with mild interest, at a stretch.

"Good, I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk, then." Michael continued his essay, as if this were the least important thing that occurred in his lifetime.

"Don't you think that you've overstayed your welcome, young man?"

"No. It's up to Andrew, anyway."

"This isn't Andrew's house." Luther crossed his arms.

"It’s not yours either, last I checked.” Michael still hadn't looked up at the man, too busy outlining his essay.

Luther shut the door quietly. "Look at people when they speak to you."

Michael glanced up, finally, focusing on a mirror in which he could watch Luther's reactions to his airy replies. "Kay."

"I think it's in Andrew's best interest, if you leave."

"You can think that."

"You wouldn't want anyone to... make any assumptions about him, after all." Luther drummed his fingers on his arms.

"Assumptions?" Michael finally put down his pen, turning to face the man.

"You boys are close friends, although it would be easy to see it as something less innocent."

"Something sinful?” Michael rolled his eyes. "You have quite the imagination, for someone who wears that cross with such conviction."

Luther's face contorted in anger. "You wouldn't want me to send Andrew away, Michael. He could go away for a long time."

Michael paused. "I’m not sure I know what you mean."

“There are a lot of things that you don’t know, brat.”

"I know that you're a disgusting, controlling, old man. Understand?" He chuckled. "Your empty threats are fucking pathetic. What would you even do?"

"Do you know where my son is, Michael?"

"Your son?"

He chuckled softly. "You've heard Aaron mention his cousin Nicky, off at camp?"

"Oh, yes. Yeah, and?"

"Do you know why he's at camp?"

"No. Do I care?"

"Because he's a sinner, Michael. Like you. Like Andrew. Electric shock therapy is the cutting edge of fixing them, did you know that?"

Michael finally turned to him, eyes dark. He stood, and crossed his arms. "You sent your own son to get tortured. Parenting 101, eh?"

"I'll send Andrew there too. Some people can't talk after, did you know that? Some people can barely even _think_ , after."

Michael's blood was boiling now. "Sounds like the idea holiday destination for you. Would you like me to book a flight?"

"I don't think you're grasping the situation very well." Luther got closer, reminding Michael a little of his own father when he was angry. "You don't want to be the reason that Andrew is a drooling, meek, broken mess. Do you?"

Michael tried his hardest to stand his ground. "But you do?"

"Andrew is nothing to me." Luther shook his head. "Tilda ran off with that scum, those twins are nothing to me and mine."

"Okay, well, maybe we'll just run, then. We'll be teenage runaways. We'll bring Aaron, too. Fuck you." Michael was losing ground, and he knew it.

"They'd hate you for it. Taking them away from everything they know to slum it with some criminal kid?"

Michael furrowed his brow, and this time remained quiet, for a few seconds. "How do I know you wouldn't just send him anyway? He's nothing to you, like you said."

"Why would I send him if you're not here? You're the one leading him astray."

"Leading him astray. Do you think I believe you?"

"Can you afford not to?" Luther raised an eyebrow. "Can Andrew?"

"Can he..." Michael swallowed, and Luther looked positively gleeful.

"How long do you think it'll take him to break?"

Michael looked away. "Go away, I have… I have to think."

Luther smiled. "Good talk, then. Oh, and Michael? Don’t tell Andrew about this."

"Great talk."

There was only one decision he could make. Clothes, folded- if you could call it that- into his bag. Shoes, too. Not folded, of course, just packed in there. Andrew was going to hate him.

His heart hurt, but it would hurt more if Luther sent Drew away. He still could, but at least this way there was a slim chance he wouldn't.

He left a note under Andrew's pillow, not knowing that Luther would easily find it and hide it away. It wasn't incriminating, just closure. Closure that Andrew wouldn't receive when he got home and the closest person in his life had disappeared. It wasn’t far to the bus station from Tilda’s house, and then it was just him and the road again.

***************

"Aaron?" Andrew frowned, letting his door swing closed behind him. "Where's Michael?"

The other blonde barely looked up at him. "He said he went out to get milk. Why?"

"He took all his stuff."

"That's just what he said to me, okay? Wait- he what?" Aaron frowned and sat up. “That’s weird.”

"Everything, Aaron. His shoes, all his clothes, his bag is gone." Andrew, for all that he pretended not to be, was starting to sound upset.

"Andrew, I'm sure-"

Andrew gritted his teeth. "I knew he was a fucking runner. I wonder how long he was planning this."

Surprisingly, Aaron had never pictured Michael as a runner. He was a... stay-er, in his mind. Or at least, he was a runner with Andrew joined at the hip.

Andrew didn't wait for him to speak again, instead turning and slamming his bedroom door behind him.

He didn't come out for the night.

****

_Four years later._

The concrete floor of the gym dugout wasn't exactly the best place to sleep, but it wasn't as if Neil was in a position to complain. His back was sore, his neck too- but at least he had had somewhere to lie down where no one would find him before school started.

He hadn't been able to find a proper place to stay, so he'd had to settle for breaking into the school grounds and finding somewhere to go.

That was where he was after the game, when the coach found him.

"Smith?" Hernandez' voice chimed from the doorway. A chime wasn't exactly the best way to describe it- the man's voice was more like a clash of cymbals. "Now, what the hell are you doing here?"

Neil jumped just slightly, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground beside him. He hadn't been smoking it anyway.

"Uh... just... eager to practice, coach."

"Eager to practice, my ass."

Hernandez absolutely didn't really have any qualms with Neil spending the nights there, and the boy knew it.

"I thought I'd find you here, anyway. There's some people here to see you."

Neil stiffened. No one was meant to know he was here, never mind come to see him.  "What? Who."

Hernandez stepped to one side, and gestured for whoever was outside to come. Neil was on his feet by the time he started to move forward, already moving to push past them. Then, as quickly as he'd stood, he was back down, an Exy stick shoved right into his gut. The pain has him curl up, stomach in anguish.

He cried out, his stomach lurching as he coughed up.

An older man made a disapproving noise. "This is why we can't have nice things, Minyard."

_Minyard?_

"Maybe I don't think we need your... nice..."

Andrew still had his stick held at arm's length, pointed to Neil. His wrist shook, barely, but enough that Neil noticed. His brows lifted, slightly.

Neil paled, more noticeable in the stark lighting. "Andrew?"

The older man raised an eyebrow. "Do you know this kid, Minyard?"

"I don't." Andrew gave Neil another hard jab in the stomach to punctuate the statement. Neil coughed more, grimacing as he got to his feet. He was a few inches taller than Andrew now, although the years had done wonders for Andrew's health.

He frowned, shaking his head. "I... I can't be here."

"Man up. Wymack, talk to your trash."

He made as if to run again, careful not to touch Andrew. The years hadn't changed as much as Andrew had thought, it seemed.

The older man- Wymack, apparently- frowned. "Smith, just hear us out."

Neil glanced at Andrew again.

Neil's knees were the next to be knocked by the blonde's Exy stick.

"Minyard!" Wymack practically growled, helping Neil up this time, even though he shrunk away from his touch.

Neil glared at Andrew quietly. "Fuck you."

Wymack sighed. "We're here to recruit you, kid."

Andrew glared back, quieter. "Unless you want to just run away."

Neil flinched, and then turned to him. "Andrew, I-"

Wymack frowned. "Minyard, step outside. I haven't even had the chance to speak to him yet."

Andrew handed his coach the racquet, with the mention of, "Just in case."

Then he left, hands shoved in his pockets. Neil swallowed, and then gritted his teeth. He wouldn't run from Andrew again.

"Yeah, I'll join."

He stayed just long enough to get the paperwork, before going after his old friend. Andrew was smoking outside, in the cold dry air. Neil shivered, though not from the cold.

"So, big shot exy player, huh."

"Unfortunately."

He flicked his cigarette, ash falling to the ground. "You're Michael, right?"

"I... Neil, now, yeah. Andrew, I'm so sorry-"

"I don't know you. The only _Neil_ I ever knew was a boy who said he cared. Then he ran without a word. So, the name is tainted, and so are you."

"I didn't want to run, Andrew..."

Andrew was shaking- not from the cold, rather from nerves. "I thought I'd be able to face you, but I was fucking wrong. Don't talk to me.”

"Luther said if I didn't run, he'd hurt you and Aaron." Neil's voice echoes slightly in the parking lot they were in. He sounded desperate.

Andrew stopped, and then turned on his heel. "You can't say that. You can't do that. Just shut up and get over it, like I had to."

He huffed, and gritted his teeth, scratching his arm. "I said I wasn't going to get..."

"He was going to hurt you, Andrew. I couldn't let that happen, I..." Neil hugged himself. "I thought you'd be safer this way."

"You're hurting me, right now. I can't fucking listen to you."

"I never meant to hurt you, you know I would never have hurt you on purpose."

"You could have taken me with you." Andrew's voice was a hush of a shout, Neil barely close enough to hear it.

"You had just gotten your family back, Andrew. How could I take it away from you?"

"Instead you took away my..." His voice was barely trembling. "Just shut up. I shouldn't have come."

Neil winced. "I'm here now, Drew."

"I don't want you here now, I wanted you when I was sixteen and you were the only fucking person who hadn’t let me down."

Neil's lip wobbled, and he schooled his face to something less upset. "I don't want you to go, Andrew."

"And I don't want you on my team. I don't want to have to see you every waking minute of my life, on the pitch, in the locker room, in the lounge, but I have to get over it- once again, I have no fucking _choice_."

Andrew flipped him off. "You're a fucking train wreck, Neil. I should have told Wymack not to consider you."

"I didn't want to leave you, and I'm not leaving you again, Drew. I won't let you let me."

"How long has it been?" Andrew scratched at his arm bands. "Tell me."

"Four years, five months and six days." Neil’s voice was a whisper.

"Five days," Andrew corrected. "And every day I thought you'd come back. Weeks, months. _Hoped_ you'd come back."

Bitterness crept into his voice. "You didn't even say goodbye."

"You were always better at remembering things than me, weren't you." Neil sniffed and chuckled, before pausing. "I did say goodbye. I left you that letter..."

"What letter?"

"I wrote you a letter, explaining why I had to go. It was in your room." Neil looked even more upset than before. "You thought I'd leave you without saying goodbye?"

"I didn't. I didn't think you would leave without saying goodbye. That's why it broke my fucking heart when you did. I never got your fucking letter."

"I left it for you, under your pillow..."

Andrew was back to walking in the direction of the car. Neil followed him. "Andrew, I missed you every day."

"You too." Andrew was trying to unlock the car, now, pretending to ignore the other boy.

"You don't know what happened, Drew. I wanted to go back, I did."

"You need to shut up." He was jamming the wrong key in, he frantically shoved in a different one.

"My dad, he found me."

It had begun to drizzle, Andrew's hair dampening and sticking to his forehead. "I don't care about your dad- I don't- I don't care about you, I..."

Neil gritted his teeth, and then grabbed Andrew's hand, shoving it under his shirt. There were new scars there. Too many new ones, some fresh and bandaged, some old and raised, violent and painful. "I couldn't go back, it would have led them to you."

Andrew took a shaky breath, running his fingertips over the scars. “You always were a fucking martyr.”

Then, his lips were on Neil’s, and he had pinned him up against the car. It was long overdue- Andrew kissed him, angrily.

Neil grunted, and then kissed him back, his hand moving to tangle in his hair.

The car keys were forgotten, dropped on the tarmac, and now both of Andrew's hands were at the nape of Neil's neck. His anger slowly subsided, coming out in the harshness in the kiss. Both of their shirts began to soak in the rain.

Neil stayed as long as he could, before pulling back with a gasp, clutching him tightly. "A-Andrew-"

"I missed you." Andrew's lips were on Neil's neck, hands down to Neil's hips. He let go, and stepped back to admire the flustered boy. "I fucking missed you so _much_ , Neil."

Neil looked different, but also painfully similar to how he looked when he was younger, still clutching Andrew's hand.

"M-Me too, Andrew." He shivered, and Andrew remembered that he was dressed in only a t-shirt, standing in the rain.

And how the boys' coaches stood about twenty feet away, looking puzzled.

Wymack cleared his throat. "I think they'll get on fine, then."

Hernandez nodded, huffing a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”


End file.
